


Meeting Mr. Holmes

by crazy_echo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Depression, M/M, Minor Character Death, mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazy_echo/pseuds/crazy_echo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finally meets Mr. Holmes and the man is nothing like he imagined him to be. Mr. Holmes is much like himself, intelligent, but nothing like his sons or ex-wife. He is warm and empathetic and is the kind of man who appreciates life and the weight it has on some decisions. The perfect father type.</p><p>But Mr. Holmes is sad and lonely, horribly depressed and convinced that he, and John, mean absolutely nothing to the rest of the Holmes....</p><p> </p><p>Fill for this Prompt http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/21231.html?thread=124011247#t124011247</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting Mr. Holmes

_Do not give in too much feelings. A overly sensitive heart is an unhappy possession on this shaky earth._

**Johann Wolfgang von Goethe**

  
"Thank you, doctor."                                                                                                  

"What for?"

"It's been a long time since I saw my friend that happy. You can't possibly imagine what this last year in your company meant for him."

"I think I do. The day we met, the look in his eyes, I was there once too. That's the reason I walked him home. I was actually surprised when he told me about his family. I never heard one sentence about a Mr. Holmes in all this time. I thought he was dead..."

"Or the worst father in history?!", the lawyer said resentfully.

"You see, from his standpoint that may was true. He once told me he wished he wasn't such a disappointment for his sons.", he said sadly.

~~~°~~~

He doesn’t know what prompted him back then.

Sherlock needed to leave the country for several days to follow a lead, he couldn’t accompany his flat mate, because a nasty case of flue spread over London and two of the other doctors were already sick at home (and Sara threatened if he left her hanging this time she would fire him).

It was a long day, the end of a double shift as his last patient came in.

A elderly gentleman, the once black hair heavily weaved through with gray his gray eyes dull and face strongly lined showing his advanced age.

“Good afternoon Mr. Crawford. I’m Dr. Watson, what ails you?”

“I’m embarrassed to bother you with such a minor thing”, the older replied and shoved up the arms of his shirt. Those were littered with a nasty rash. John winced in sympathy “Does it hurt or itch?”

“Itch.”

“Did you have a cold lately or the flu?”

“No, neither.”

“Mmm, have you eaten something unusual?”

“Oh, the new neighbor brought a batch of cookies the other day, rather sweet – the cookies not the neighbor!”,he joked.

John smiled: “It seems there was something in it that you reacted allergic to. I will give you a cortisone injection and a recipe for a salve that will help against the itch. Drink a lot and when the rash is gone you should get yourself tested for food allergies.”

“Thank you, doctor!”

“You’re welcome,” John replied while he shook the offered hand.

~~~°~~~

On his way out John caught sight of the old man he treated earlier. He couldn’t put his finger on it but the old man seemed familiar in a strange way.

“May I walk with you?”, John asked.

“Why not, it’s the same way after all.”

“You look tired doctor.”

“It was a long day, flu season is always taxing.”

“We’re here!”

He pointed to the little two story house to his left.

“Would it be to forward of me to invite you to a cuppa?”

Usually he would never even consider taking a stranger’s invitation a patients even less but the old man seemed lonely.

Sherlock would scold him and tell him what a sentimental idiot he is. But his mother always taught him to have respect for his elders, not that Sherlock had respect for anyone.

“Lead the way!”

“Follow the floor to the last room on the right. I will join you immediately doctor.”

“John.”, the younger offered.

The old man turned nodded and replied: “Siger then, John.”

The blond shed his coat and followed his hosts instructions.

The sitting room could only be described as comfy, two large chairs with a side table were standing near the fireplace the furniture was old but well cared for, the bookcases overstuffed till the ceiling.

But his attention was captured by the many pictures on the opposite wall. Everyone showed groups of children different ages some of them were over thirty years old believing the dates.

He startled when the elder set the tray down.

“I’m sorry I did not mean to wander.”

“It’s fine John. What captured your attention?”

John walked back and joined the other man.

“The pictures”, he replied quietly, gratefully taking the offered cup of the adding a sip of milk and 2 sugars.

“Ah, yes, my students.”

“What do you teach?”

“Used to, the age doesn’t permit it anymore I fear. I teached biology.”, Siger replied wistfully.

“You really kept pictures of all your students,” he asked surprised thinking back to his school years, not remembering any of his teachers back with fondness.

“Of course, I like to remember my students. Some of them were very bright, teaching now themselves or studied and made something fancy of themselves. Others may weren’t as fortunate but all of them were special,” he replied with fondness offering his guest a plate with biscuits.

“Thank you that is really delicious!”

“You’re welcome. As you already know I have a hopeless sweet tooth.”

John just had to laugh at that.

It was ridiculously easy to talk to Siger, it was as they both had known each other for years.

After a while they talked about their families.

“My father died several years ago. My mother lives out in the country. And I fear I have not the best of relationships with my sister.”

“I’m sorry John.”

“It’s fine. It was a long time ago.”

“Still, my father died fifteenyears ago and that doesn’t exactly make it easier. This is actually my childhood home. I came back after his death.”

“So you don’t like London all that much?”

“Not particularly. After my divorce I just needed to get away for a while – It ended up being 15 years. If it wasn’t for my father’s death I don’t think I would have come back at all.”

John winced in sympathy.

“It was the best for everybody,” he replied nonchalant.

“So you have children?! Did the not miss you – I’m sorry I have no right to ask.”

Shaking his head the older answered: “And I wouldn’t have answered if I didn’t want to tell you.

When I first meet my Ex-wife I was head over heels for her, didn’t give up until she allowed me to court her. And it worked, not a year later I asked her to marry me and she accepted. I really don’t know why she choose me, she was incredibly beautiful und amazingly intelligent, could have made a much better party. She was politically very engaged, like our oldest son should be now – at least he always said he wanted to follow his mothers footsteps,” he paused, signaling that it was ok for Johnto ask questions.

“When have you last seen them?”

“Twenty-nine years ago.”

John looked shocked.

“What happened?”

“As the years gone by I saw my wife less and less even though we lived in the same house and when we did she grew more and more distant, I imagine I made not a very good husband for a politician at all, no fancy career or family with money. When our first son was born she took a pause and I never could shake the feeling that she resented me for wanting children. Mind she loved the boys, they were her everything. Still as our boy grew older he showed the same intelligence his mother did, incredibly observant his teachers we’re all amazed by him. But it seemed my son wasn’t at all impressed by me.

He rarely talked to me when he did he asked for his mother or those pleasantries you throw at people you have nothing to do with. Seven years after the first she was pregnant again, it came as a surprise. I never thought she would have considered it a second time. But I was happy our youngest, another boy, was quiet a adventurer much more outgoing and curious than his brother but just as intelligent, as soon as he could speak he wanted to know how everything worked, had always questions and then came the time I couldn’t answer them anymore. It’s hard hearing from your six year old son that you are an idiot. Don’t misunderstand me John I loved my family, god knows I still do but sometimes that’s not enough especially if the people you love consider emotions bothersome. I was a horrible emotionally man - still am.”

John didn’t even know how to respond to that, the man he got to know today, was funny, smart, cared-beyond his duty. He couldn’t even imagine…..

“I just thought you should know this, John.”

“I don’t understand?”

The old man stood up, walked to the next room and came back with a framed picture.

John took it. The picture showed his host, much younger, besides him was a incredible beautiful woman. Even if the picture weren’t black and white when he starred at the face he didn’t even have to see the very chubby 10 year old clutching the hand of his three year old brother to know that the man in front of him was indeed Sherlock's father.

“But you said your name was Crawford?!”

“Actually, my full name is Siger Crawford-Holmes.”

John didn’t know if he should be angry with the old man, strangely he felt more betrayed.

“What do you want to know? That is the reason you lured me here after all isn’t it?!”

“No it isn’t! The truth is I approached you because I wanted to get to know you. A friend pointed me to your website. I was curious what kind of person Sherlock Holmes would allow to spend that long in his company! What I found was entirely unexpected.”

“I’d like you to explain yourself!”

“My visit to the hospital wasn’t planed, but pure coincidence. That you were there was unexpected. I deliberated for a moment but soon discarded talking to you. When you offered to walk me home I invited you by pure chance I didn’t expect you to accept. I don’t know if you’re even aware, but 85% of our conversation resolved around your flat mate.”

John shook his head in denial.

“It’s true. When I read your blog.I became aware that you’re very fond of Sherlock, but I didn’t expect you to love him. My advice to you is to not get involved further with my son. Feelings mean nothing to him. To either of them. We are only an annoyance.”

John stood and left.

~~~°~~~

What he didn’t expect was that the next day he would find his way back there.

And the fortnight following, as the fortnight after that.

He couldn’t deny that he liked Siger a lot. They both had many things in common.

He couldn’tsay what made him never mention this visit to Sherlock, maybe he just expected that the genius knew but wouldn’t be bothered with the matter.

~~~°~~~

“I’m a simple man that enjoys simple things.”

"You should leave him. I'm sure it's new and exciting now but it won't stay this way, at least not for Sherlock. When it comes to emotions Holmes' just don't do those. Don't misunderstand me, but you said it yourself you and me are very alike. I just want to spare you this.

I don't mean that you should cut him out of your life, but don't make him the sun that you resolve around. Find a nice girl or guy to settle down with or are you really that selfless that you could give and give and receive nothing in return?"

Siger never told him the trigger why he left – like John never told him the reason that made him stay.

It weren’t the great things that made him stay, but the little ones. The time he broke his leg, came from the hospital only to remember that they were out of tea, milk or anything edible.

Only to be greeted with a steaming cup of tea, perfect amount of milk and sugar and a plate of sandwiches and the explanation that Mrs. Hudson let it be reminded that she was not their housekeeper – the same Mrs. Hudson that left the day before to visit her grandniece in Edinburgh.

The time he came down with a nasty case of flu, strangely no case came up in that time – only to be told by DI Lestrade over a pint that he really could have used Sherlock’s help that time.

Or the mysterious vanishing of his ASBO, which Lestrade sweared he didn’t even know it existed in the first place – something only a certain minor government official could have done and definitely not on his own motivation.

The regularly times he woke up to find Sherlock in his bed with the explanation he needed his for an experiment – which did not explain why the taller was wrapped around him like a octopus.

~~~°~~~

Sherlock looked honestly taken aback when he saw John at the reading of his father's will, the same couldn't be said for Mycroft.

The Lawyer did his best toappear professional despite his personal feelings.

Everything material was splittedand shared between Sherlock, his brother and their mother, everything of personnel value was left to John - excluding the house which ended up to do with as the lawyer wished.

"If this was everything gentlemen, the papers will be send to you and all necessary things arranged."

"Actually I'd like to know what happened to Gladstone?", John asked worried.

"Don't worry, Miss Morstan is taking care of him. Do you want..."

"No. It's not necessary to take him away from a place where he's happy.", John interrupted.

While Mycroft already left Sherlock hesitated, waiting for John, waiting for answers.

"We will talk at home, I will meet you there."

When the door was closed John asked the question that haunted him the whole time:"Was it suicide?"

Not at all surprised by the question the Lawyer - Mr. Andrews -said:" Because that was also my fear I ordered an autopsy - but he died of natural cause."

Seeming to hesitate he continued:" While Siger was very kind, he was also absolutely hopeless emotionally man. Life was not easy for him. When his father killed his mother he was taken in by his grandfather a horribly cold man that disowned his daughter because she fell in love with a commoner. He was shipped of into boarding school and then also disowned because of the profession he choose."

"He never mentioned that." John said shocked.

"You see, it wasn't like this in the beginning, I knew him since childhood. His mother was an incredibly kind and lovely woman, his father... everything turned bad when Mr. Crawford lost his job and worse when he started drinking, one moment he was a mild mannered man and the next a choleric maniac."

"Bipolar  disorder." John acknowledged.

"As it is known now, but back then he was just a violent husband that killed his wife in a domestic episode. After the divorce I feared the worst for Siger, the told me he left before the urge to kill himself became too strong, he was so unhappy that he had to leave or commit suicide. When his father died of leaver failure in prison he returned. As long as he could teach his depression was fine but when he became older it got worse."

"That's when I met him."

"Yes. And I will forever be grateful for that!"

~~~°~~~

When he returned to Baker street Sherlock already waited for him, looking years older than he was.

"How long?"

"A year. While the case in Norway."

"You didn't know."

"Not at first, he told me."

"You didn't want to return."

"I thought he wanted to use me for information. But he was just a lonely old man with a broken heart."

"Sherlock, I thought you knew who I was meeting."

"I didn't. I was always under the impression that he was living on another continent as far away from us as possible."

Not being able to ignore the openly hurt look in the youngers face he sat beside him and took his hands gently stroking with his thumb.

"He loved you - very much. But he thought he was a disappointment as father and husband for his familyand that you where better off without him. He never stopped loving you.", said softly allowing Sherlock to read the truth in his eyes.

"I wanted to run after him, but Mycroft forbade me to and locked me in my room - he said if I ever mentioned 'that man'again he would burn all my books - they where gifts from father."

Understanding better where the tension between the Holmes brothers came from John continued to stroke his hands and began to tell him all the wonderful things that his friend told him about his son.

Later while lying wrapped in each others arms in bed Sherlock told him:

"He never was a disappointment. I never mentioned him, because that day when we came back from France mummy saw those papers and started crying. It was the only time I ever saw my mother cry. You know, she never singed those papers."  
  
 _I think one's feelings waste themselves in words; they ought all to be distilled into actions which bring results._  
 **Florence Nightingale**

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> I have no info about Mr. Holmes real backgroung, this is made up to fit the prompt. This is only my 2nd fanfic that I've written in english. A beta reader was sadly not available. Correction of grammar is welcome.


End file.
